Friday, 30 August 2013

Everything I touch seems destined to turn into something
mean and farcical.

- Henrik Ibsen

Him:We’re not doing
a blog post on this.

Me:Okay, right.Now, in Doctor Who Magazine – in DWM 464 –
this month’s1 – it says that Neil
Cross’ original intention for the confrontation scene at the end of The Rings of Akhaten with the giant…Ummm…What was that thing?

By now the Him’s gurning has reached the point where
he may actually damage himself permanently.

Me:Ha!Stop it!So – this creature was going to be, if not Cthulhu, something that was
so frightening -so unimaginably huge
and terrifying, that it would tear our minds apart with razors made of algebra if we saw it - yet, the
Doctor talks it into submission. Wow!Which
makes me wonder how many drafts of that speech Neil Cross had written, before it was given to Matt Smith to
deliver to a big green wall. And how the bits that were borrowed from a Rutger Hauer
improvisation got left in…Oh…

The Him’s stretched his lower lip right over his face and
tucked it behind his ears.It’s funnier
than it sounds.I untangle Him and try
and continue.

Me:Are you going to
say anything?Or just sit there doing impossible things with your face?

Him:I’m trying to
make you sound like you’ve lost it.

Me:It’s working. Also, I'm more than capable of doing that by myself, thanks.So, the Doctor’s up, facing this
brain-pulpingly huge Lovecraftian nightmare planet god thing.One that looks like a pumpkin.You can see all the ideas behind the story. And they're fab. A society based on singing; all the different species - the tricky questions about belief and sacrifice... Even the leaf probably works on paper.I get what he was aiming for, and the
intentions are laudable.This whole
culture being in terror of an evil – and the singing holding it in place and
everything…Unfortunately…Unfortunately, they gave it to whichever
director they gave it to2and it
went through some kind of editing process that-I don’t know what happened to it, but the director has an awful lot to answer
for…Anyway, I just
want to know what you think of this…

Cue up the vid…

Me:Basically, this
is Colin Baker's version - but with added musical backing from the episode.And it’s great.Right up until Murray (“Itsa me”) Gold wakes up and the
orchestra come in and then it becomes…Ah.I don’t know.He’s got some sort of key that he writes in
that makes me swear at televisions – and he seems to write the majority of his
music in it now.It’s like he’s
auditioning for the most saccharine, sub-Lloyd Webber musical imaginable with
audience-manipulating lowest-common-denominator tosh.It pretends to be glorious and triumphant,
but there’s nothing there but maths.There’s no emotion. And, in fairness, he hasn’t always been like
this.Eight years on one project’s going
to burn anyone out.

Play gets pressed.The girl sings.

Me:The girl’s
singing I can about cope with.

Colin Baker starts speaking.

Me:Go on, Col.

Colin Baker:I’ll
tell you a story.

All going well so far.And then there's an odd silence.

Me:I don’t know why
he goes for a lie-down there, unless it’s to allow Murray Gold to come in with
the- URGH!

The brown notes commence.With choir.

Me:mrrgGGH!

And on it squelches…

Me:Oh, God…

Him:You’ve only
yourself to blame.

Me:It’s awful.

And on…

Me:Oh, say something,
Colin.I don’t want to listen to this
any longer.

And on…

Me:I'd rather
watch The Sensorites.3

Colin Baker's back in.He
throws himself into it and we get an idea of what could have
been.The fact the choir get dropped down in
the mix doesn’t hurt either.

Him:“Itsa me,
Murraygold.”

Colin Baker:Can you
hear them singing?

Me:NO!It’s better when you can’t hear them.And why would they be singing like that
anyway?It’s their entire existence that
depends on this encounter – it’s not an advert for cakes!

And on…

Colin Baker:You’re
not a god!

Him:“You’re just a
big, burning orange.”

Colin Baker continues to knock it out of the park.

Colin Baker:Take my
memories…

Him:“Take my leaf.”

Colin Baker:I hope
you’ve got a big appetite.

Him:“I hope you’ve
got a big hat.”

Colin Baker wrestles with the brown notes – squeezing the music
into submission with an impassioned delivery. We coast smoothly over the Blade Runner quote,4 and just when we think he’s crushed
the terrible thing forever…

Colin Baker:Take
it!Take it all, baby!

Me:Auwgh!Must we?

And that’s it.Game
over.He’s not getting out of that.

Him:Murraygold!

Me:Arrgh!Urrgh!

The musical smugout smugs on, crushing everything.

Me:It’s an alright
speech, but it’s got an impossible line.That's never going to be delivered by any actor - hell, any human being – whether or not
they’re playing a Time Lord – no-one’s ever going to be able to say that line
and make it…No-one can say it without
embarrassment because it’s terrible.And the new series is littered with poisonous gems like that.I bet it looks great on paper though. It’s written to be read but not said.Harrison Ford was right.And that music’s abysmal.It’s so bad. I thought I might have been mistaken...

3. Genuinely. The music actually produces a physical
response from me that’s not dissimilar to the way some people view spiders or
snakes. Or sprouts.

I’ll go into more depth about the music at a later date but
I think I should state that I do think Murray Gold’s capable of producing some
great pieces of uplifting music. This is Gallifrey, Our Childhood, Our Home still tugs something
fundamental within me, I am the Doctor
blew me away when I first heard it (I prefer The Sun’s Gone Wibblythough) and even the Gridlock hymn - not the comedy parp-parp stuff, whilst
not my cup of tea, was better than this.
This is excessive, indulgent, un-edited and emotionally hollow . Someone, somewhere needs to say; “Do it again
and do it better.”

Thursday, 29 August 2013

The Ascent, however well-mapped and traversed is different for anyone who takes it on. It was a bit of a shock to discover that there was another story - a hidden one - silently writing itself in the gaps of our compulsory Ascent log. It's definitely there, growing like lichen in the badly-lit side crevasses we've nervously passed over; never, don't ever, look down.

And this is where I have to say that I don't know where they're coming from, what they want or what they mean. I don't even know if I've caught all of them - maybe some have managed to escape into the wet space surrounding the tunnel vision of the Ascent. At least one chunk had weebled a fair distance before I managed to pin it down with an ice-axe. I'm not convinced that there won't be more of these strange growths. I'll try and isolate them from the main body when I spot them.

For now, I've plopped all
these accidental off-topic/off-road autobiographical moments into a
single bucket. Y'know, for your convenience.

Yes, you and no-one
else. That's 'cause you're lovely.

I think they're in the right order now, even if the dates seem to be wrong.

When they are going on a long expedition, they carry no baggage with them.

- Marco Polo, Travels in the Land of Kubilai Khan

I thought we might disagree with what Marco Polo just said there1 and instead talk about The Ark in Space for a while.

As it’s a two-hander, I’m not going to be interrupting the flow of this blog with personal reflections like this very often.2 The following stands as a bit of an addendum to the HOWLaround page that no-one reads.

There’s a big difference between watching what’s now known as “Classic Series” Doctor Who
when you’re a child and watching it as an adult with friends. That’s a
particularly dumb sentence, because everything in it’s so obvious.
When you’re an adult you’re bringing a different amount of experience
and awareness to your viewing but, when you’re a child, THIS STUFF’S REAL!3

As bizarre as it sounds, my earliest confirmable memory is watching Tom Baker bang a ganglion to annoy a prawn.

No. Really.

The first book I actually remember reading was Doctor Who and the Loch Ness Monster.
This was back in the days when newsagents carried paperbacks. I saw
it, I think, on the Friday after school. It took me three days to get
through, and I probably missed some of the subtler nuances.

The next book - bought on Sunday with the papers - was Doctor Who and the Daleks (an exciting adventure, I'm sure you'll agree) and after that, I was hooked.

Chronologically, I'm not so sure what happened next.I do remember, however, my Dad buying me Horror of Fang Rock
on a burning hot summer day that should have been my birthday. Tom
Baker clutching a thick chunk of rope, his cheek scarred with Rutan
blood. Or something.

I
devoured the Target books when I was in school - largely because I knew
I'd have seriously limited access to a television in a caravan. Apart
from that, I had a high metabolism and enjoyed eating paper. There was a
lot of it about.

I was also very, very much into the Doctor Who Weekly comic strips, especially ones drawn by Dave Gibbons or Steve Dillon. This developing love of Doctor Who
was mixed with a voracious, and largely indiscriminate, reading habit -
the local library once phoned up my parents to find out exactly what I was doing with the books I was taking out in the morning and returning in the evening.4 As a result, my initial relationship with the world of Doctor Who was more from a written basis than a viewed one.

I managed to watch some of the actual stories I’d been reading about with the Five Faces of Doctor Who
series of repeats. I remember them as being a very strange experience
now - black and white windows on the past that seemed to show
different pictures to the ones I'd built in my head. I became a bit
defensive of both the show and my memories of it.

When the transmission schedule of Doctor Who
was moved from a Saturday to during the week, I was able to watch
Peter Davison fairly consistently. I followed the series avidly until
the Sixth Doctor arrived and the show felt harder to defend –
especially with The Twin Dilemma. With the Seventh Doctor, the series began feeling more like Grange Hill and defending it to myself, as well as others, seemed impossible.

I switched off, potentially for good, when Hale and Pace turned up.

Time moved on, like it does, and apart from rescuing copies of Shadaand the superb Tom Baker Years from a WH Smiths dump-bin in the early 90’s, Doctor Who and myself drifted apart. Growing up had got in the way a bit.

The excitement of Doctor Who coming back in 1996 - and it was about time, even if just for one day - was soured by how
it came back. I bought the video on the day of release - from a
Woolworths, if I remember correctly - and watched it with friends. It
started promisingly, but almost as soon as the ‘Skaro’ caption had
faded, I was left squirming with embarrassment until it was over.

And so, with a few UK Gold exceptions, that was me and the Doctor for the twentieth century.

When
the BBC started issuing DVDs, I raised an eyebrow, but at the time
couldn’t afford anything that would play them, so had to work on the
basis that by the time I could, there’d be too many out to ever catch
up. Then, I uncovered a copy of The Ark in Space on dusty VHS in a charity shop and, without needing to think, bought it.

I
watched it with the Him, and something a bit weird took place. The
whole first episode was unsettling - twenty-plus minutes of just the
Doctor, Sarah Jane and Harry exploring a deserted space station with
the tension building as nothing happens. If you haven't watched
it before now, then don't worry, that isn't a spoiler: it's a lie.
Anyway, after twenty-plus minutes of nothing happening comes the
TWIST and then the DOUBLE-PUNCH CLIMAX of - a Wirrn emerging from a mop
cupboard. The Him was shocked rigid. And somehow, it became terrifying
again.

Later on, boring a friend, I described The Impossible Planet as "The Exorcist for kids." The Ark in Space, however, was made of much more robust jabolite; The Ark in Space was something that Alien would rip off to terrify parents.5

After that I realised that if I was going to buy anything that wasn't food, it would have to be Tom Baker Doctor Who DVDs.

And then I picked up Earthshock.

And then The Caves of Androzani.

And you see where this is going.

The Him insists he watched an early Sunday morning UK Gold rerun of The Mutants by himself, but I don’t think that the dates line-up. I’m pretty sure we both watched The Brain of Morbius,
as that would make sense. My evidence for this is that not only was I
going through a bit of a Tom-Baker’s-the-greatest-thing-ever stage at
that point – otherwise known as my twenties - but both stories contain
an appearance by a Mutt, so the confusion makes sense.

Then
there was the announcement that the series would return. Having
squirmed through something similar before, I wasn’t optimistic.
Although Christopher Eccleston’s a pretty good actor what’s this about
the fools casting – who? Billie Piper? Oh no. Oh no.

But
it worked fine, didn’t it? Yes, there were bumps and flaws that
we’ll look at when get there, but overall it was back and it didn’t
suck. And after being out in the wilderness for all those years, it
turned out we were right all along.

Since
those heady days I’ve tried catching up properly with the history of
the series, including all the bits I used to think were dull.
Sometimes I wondered if it was just politeness, but the Him’s quite a
fan too - especially with the new series. Along the way we’ve met
Polly, Nyder and Sarah Jane, traipsed around the Kelvingrove Doctor Who
exhibition (twice), watched a real-life flying Dalek and the Him’s even
had an observation published in a proper printed book about Doctor Who. As to what that observation was, you’ll have to wait until we get to the story in question. It’s a blinder.

We rewatched The Aztecs
recently and I was enthralled by the way John Lucarotti – with some
David Whitaker alchemy no doubt – created an unravelling delight of a
story. I’ve opted to give the audio Marco Polo a proper re-listen for my own amusement as a result.

When
I find that neither of us have made a comment for a while, because a
television programme made nearly fifty years ago has managed to
enrapture us into silence, I get a feeling that I can only describe as –
and brace yourselves, because it’s about to get soppy - “joy”. It’s
very pure and it doesn’t last long, but it’s amazing.

Watching
the series from the start is something the Him’s wanted to do for
about two years now. Yes, you read that right. It’s something I want
to have a shot at too, if just to help put all that information in
chronological context. Otherwise it’s a bit like having read fifty (or
so) issues of Sandman, and lots and lots of reference books about it, but never the thing itself from start to end.

Terrance Dicks might disagree – as would a lot of people – that Doctor Who’s not one long story, but of course it is. The new series made damn sure of that.

So,
thanks for joining us on this expedition. Hopefully you’ll hang
around as we follow a story that’s been improvising itself into
existence, unfolding forever into the endless corridor of the future
where adventures and shadows and monsters and laughs and screams await.

"And there’s blood on it!"

Longleat '83 - Ash's Marshchild refuses to evolve.

1. In a chapter entitled, ‘The Road to Cathay’, travel fans.

2. Fair warning though, I will be doing it when we reach an entry where it’s pertinent to do so.

Monday, 26 August 2013

There are only three songs in all the world, one’s about
love, one’s about death and the other one’s about Kate Bush.Also, there are only
seven stories – so it shouldn’t come as a great surprise that characters and
locations overlap from time to time.

Many of us will age and expand in an occasional grocery shop near to the sea – this doesn’t mean we’ll all end up believing that the
Doctor’s probably real.Dozens of young people gleefully told a crumpled careers advisor
they wanted to spend their taxable years writing comics (not at the same time,
that’s the plot to the eighth story)
but it doesn’t mean that they were all using the opportunity to vent hormonal arrogance rebelling against
something loathed as a result of circumstance.There are more stories in which the young protagonist
has read an entire library - Moonshadow
is one that leaps to mind - than there are bootleg Hawkwind albums.But only just.

There were two sets of directionally-designated stairs in
the school’s main building, and at the bottom of the ‘escape’ set was a
dimly-lit, concrete cave created by the overhanging steps.The Payphone itself clung to the cave wall next
to the reprographics room and the air there always tasted inky.

School itself was tedious and vicious in roughly equal
amounts and got in the way of reading.Back
then we weren’t riding dinosaurs to school because of a noble sacrifice I’d
made by accident.On the whole this had
been forgotten, but that didn’t mean I’d suddenly become popular.Music came later, but that was
really just a way of wandering off-script and into a paranoid tangle of
improvisation and apparent peer-approval, triggered by the realisation that you
didn’t actually need any musical ability to be a vocalist.

Every character in this interactive version of School Fun had
their different ways of getting through the compulsory quagmire of
comprehensive education: some would look for open windows; others imposed a
Python-based reading to create a bearable everyday surreality; some pushed the
boundaries of social acceptability and others just got on with it, or enjoyed
sport.

Computers were still mostly a madman’s manufactured dream,
oozing from the BBC’s Dystopian R&D Department.Somehow, real world proto-cheat-codes had
evolved - later on they would mutate into
the symbolic, species-crossing endoparasite we all love, but we don’t need to
go into that here.These were simple times
of great potential when everything was either meat, plastic, shellac, paper or
metal.Reality was still up for grabs
and someone - it was never clear who, but I always thought that wearing a Judge
Death badge was a bit risky – had discovered that by inputting a secret code
into any normal payphone you could make it ring forever.

One of the minor characters in my personal adventure is about
to make his first appearance, he’s just changing out of his punk journalist
disguise at the moment.While we’re
waiting for him to get ready, I thought we might have a quick chat about rivers
and time.

There’s something about the water cycle that always appealed
to me.I like the way that water just
keeps going round and around like energy and stories.It might change size and shape and location
but it always comes back to the original combination of hydrogen and oxygen
eventually.I also like the idea that Glasgow’s main export,
after superheroes, is the same stuff that splashed all over the dinosaurs’ feathers.Until it reminds me that I’m responsible for
wiping them out in the first place and that makes me sad, so I’ll try and
conjure an analogy about streams being tributaries of story leading to a river
but that won’t work so I’ll shift angles and try to funnel water into a metaphor
for our individual narratives and-

Mate, I’m dying out here.Can you hurry up and get that jacket on?

Okay, he’s ready now.

There was something wrong with the Payphone in the
cave.All through lunchtime the rumours
had crawled from inmate to inmate like lice.By the time they’d reached me, the nuisance novelty had worn skin-thin
for the giggling group clustered in the shelter of the escape stairs.I arrived just as the end-of-lunch bell
rang.The crowd crumbled, falling back
to registration classes in preparation for the afternoon’s grey trudge toward
the nineties.

The sixth-former with the Judge Death badge finished his
call, saw me standing there and held the handset toward me.His head tilted slightly and he grinned.

“Yeah, cheers.” I took hold of the handset and
tried not to appear too Alzarian.“What
do I do?”

“Press the ‘next call’ button, wait for the dial tone and
then just ring – when you’re finished, press ‘next call’ again – just don’t
hang up.”He was looking very pleased
with himself.

“And it’ll do what?”

“It’s knackered.The
longer you stay on the call the more credit you build up.”And with that he left me holding a hacked telephone,
standing in a cave that was going to be empty for the next fifteen
minutes.

With great power comes great responsibility, as no-one ever
said ever.So, who could I call then?

As a result of writing letters to people who may never have really
existed, I’d managed to start a bit of a correspondence with some of the gods
who made British comics happen, and because of this had a selection of secret
numbers written in the back of the notebook I carried everywhere.I looked through the stringy digits, trying
to decide which combination to summon.By now I was burning up, my cheeks stang and flop-sweat was spotting the
shaking notebook.

In the end I settled on the code attached to the most
obscure name, more of a hemi-demi-semi-god at this point in psychogeology and
therefore the one least likely to shout my face off.Repeating the digit blocks of code out loud I
input them firmly, one after the other, into the clay of the future.

The queue’s like a still summer river, all gentle expectant
bubbling and trickling susurrations.I’m
bobbing in the tide with my PA, buoyed up by the contents of my bag.Someone opens the door and the river flows
forward smoothly, undulating around the square named after King George
III’s favourite ladies and sometimes a Cure single.The river slowly becomes a lake; we wash up in the shallow end.

For the next sixty minutes I’m taken on a guided tour of
everything I got up to when I was meant to be watching Doctor Who.Black orchids; shocks from the future; the
unexpected autograph on the twentieth Redfox; M*****man’s sudden appearance in
my hometown, the black screaming horror that can be packed into twenty-four
hours; dreaming my way through college and into music via London Below; sharing
other mothers and mirrors that aren’t with the Him. And I remember that sweat tastes like the
ocean and tears at the same time, regardless of whether it’s honest or
shameful.

The lockgates open again after a hour and the lake gushes
back out to form a new river that’s made up with all the same stories as the
first one.It moves muddily at first,
allowing Ian Rankin to make an unexpected cameo before he’s swept away to
honour a genius.Gradually, the river
begins to pick up speed. Soon we’re being buffeted headlong into the rapids
before tipping, white-knuckled, over the precipice and into the broiling
maelstrom.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember, but I’ve been
waiting twenty-two years to apologise for phoning you at home.”

It’s the second time we’ve had a crossover, and we both know
that it’s quite a coup for me. There’s a pause.

“No, I remember.It
only ever happened once.”

“Well, I’d still like to say ‘sorry’.”

He laughs and extends his hand.I shake it and then climb out of the pool onto
the street where Alexander Graham Bell was born and into the fog that’s rolling
in from tomorrow.

There is no such thing as reality.There is only perception.

- Gustave Flaubert

Fig 1.M*****man 18 - page 23. Escape stairs highlighted.

Fig 2. M*****man 21 - page 27. Author's other home pictured to left of bandstand. Magnifying glass and imagination not supplied.

Sunday, 25 August 2013

Me:Weirdly enough, I owned this one but I lost
it.And not in the way that the BBC did.

Him:Really?On video?Or do you mean the
book?

Me: No, I picked the Target up from my favourite
charity shop fairly recently – just before it got reissued...Yeah, I had the box-set with the CD and the
video.I’ve no idea what happened to it.
1

Him:Mystery.

Me:A bit.This was during the time I wasn’t supposed to be following Doctor Who, but I think my memory’s
cheating.I had The Crusade as well.Don’t
know where that went either.2

Him: You lost a lot of stuff.

Me:I did a lot of moving.

Him:That’ll be why.

Me:It didn’t help.

Him:Maybe it’ll be around somewhere.

Me:It might
be in the Nostalgia Mine.3Anyway, shall we?

Him:Yeah, sure.

And we’re off.

The credits fade to
lots of lovely stock footage/rostrum shots of someone’s disastrous
holiday.The opening shots of an unforgiving,
refrigerated landscape are followed by ice, more ice, ice and some snow and
then ice.These images are overlaid with
a scary, haunting wailing that reminds me of Helen Mirren in Excalibur for some reason.

The title announces
itself with bold capitals and more than a little pride.Good show.

Me:That’s different.

The camera suddenly
lurch-zooms on a particularly interesting bit of ice in the middle of a photo
of some ice frozen in ice aaaaaaaaaaand…

ONE

Him:“ONE!”

Noise and panic around
a giant, half-eaten polo.A voice
declares that the first phase of a base evacuation should take place whilst
ladies in white flit from place to place.Then there’s a cameo voice-over.

Me:Sounds like a Mechonoid.

Him:It reminded me of that voice in the TARDIS.

Me:Yeah?

Him:‘Silence-Will-Fall” – oh!That’d be ace!If it went all the way back to The Chase and turned out there were
Silence in the Mechonoids!

Me:You could pitch that to Big Finish.

Him:No!

Me:It’s no less likely than some of the ideas
floating around.And not just mine.

A door opens and Clent
- who appears to be disguised as a tiger - storms in, walking stick at the
ready.The stress levels are rising with
the siren.Shouting takes place until
the danger subsides.Miss Garrett, a
lady wearing what looks like Google Glass, says:

Miss Garrett:We need scientist Penley.

Clent reminds her that
Scientist Penley isn’t working there any more and she’ll have to make the
machine work without him.

Clent asks the Mechonoid
Voice for a damage report.It runs
through a list of glaciers that have been held - the list covers the whole of the Earth, rather
than just the bits you’d expect.And Scotland.

Me:For some reason I can actually remember
reading the Target of this in the back of a car.It was a library book.

Him:Sweet memories?

Me:Ummm…Yeah…Why not?5

Clent and Miss Garrett
– rather stylishly – exchange exposition as the camera pans up to an old BBC
ident hanging on the wall.

A voice that’s not a
Mechonoid declares the onset of the second phase.Clent panics and hobbles over to a
communicator to bellow at Scientist Arden
- a gentleman working at the glacier face elsewhere and therefore probably
about to become a statistic.

In the middle of a
snowstorm at the glacier face, Arden – who’s dressed like he lost a bet –
directs a young man called Davis
to drill into the ice.The Excalibur music’s back.

Davis says he’s found
something, and Arden grumbles about the surplus of mastodons they’ve been
uncovering recently – thus allowing author Brian Hayles to gently acknowledge
the article that first prompted the idea that eventually hardened into the
basis for this fantastic story.

Arden clears some of the snow away, but the shape
is still indistinct.It almost appears
to be a man…

Telecommunoprompter:Ping!Ping!

The wind rises and the
signal’s lost.Arden decides they should
press on anyway, Clent’s computer schedule be damned.He rubs more of the ice away as Sutekh’s
Organ Sonata of Evil in G makes an
anachronistic appearance.

Him:“Let’s use our bare hands – that’ll be
quicker!”

Back at the base,
Clent’s less than happy that his Skype’s crashed at such an important
moment.Say what you like about this
story’s warnings about technology in general - and computers in specific – some
of it’s still on the money.

Miss Garrett announces
that we’re not far from total disintegration, which doesn’t sound good.

Outside the base the
snow’s drifted up the walls.A wolf
joins in on the Excalibur chorus…

Me:It feels very different.The music and the sound effects help.

The TARDIS materialises
at what might optimistically be described as "a jaunty angle".

Him:That’s a terrible
landing.

Me:It’s not the best.

Him:No.

Victoria emits her first sonic blast of the story as
the TARDIS sledges to an abrupt landing.The doors are opened.

Him:And the doors on the inside still look
nothing like the doors on the outside.

The Doctor, still
wrapped up in Yeti fur, clambers out after some business.

Me:Reminds me of The Eleventh Hour a bit.

Victoria points out all the snow.

Jamie:Oh no, not again.

Me:“It’s actually Cornwall.”

The Doctor and
Victoria climb out of the TARDIS.Victoria points at the
giant wall just out of shot.Suddenly, the
Doctor emits a pained cry…

Me:Ha!

Having managed to get
Jamie off his hand, the Doctor explains to Victoria that the wall is in fact part of a
massive plastic dome.

Victoria:I wonder what’s inside…

Behind them a door
opens -

“It’s…”

Two unshaven
gentlemen, one very much so, rush out through the door.They are both carrying what look like packets
of cheese.

Me:“Wensleydale?”

The two rush off into
the blizzard.

The Doctor manages to
get the door open and our heroes venture inside.

The interior of the
dome seems to be done out mostly in Worthy Sunday Period Drama.An urgent voice announces the third stage of
evacuation as Jamie finds an opportunity to flirt.Further down the corridor, the Doctor is
distracted by the distant sound of a dot matrix printer.

Victoria suggests that
they leave as it might be dangerous, but in a wonderful moment of true glory,
the Doctor says:

The Doctor:No.Let’s go in.

Beyond the door, Clent
is shuffling around the Control Polo offering advice and corrections, none of which
appear to be helping.The Doctor shadows
Clent, growing increasingly concerned.Clent finally notices our chums and tries to have them ejected as scavengers.Or "Scavengers", as it’s pronounced onscreen.

The Doctor:In two minutes and thirty-eight seconds
you’re going to have an almighty explosion!

The Doctor bounds from
technician to technician, offering corrective bafflegab, whilst Clent blusters.Peter Barkworth’s a class act, and we already
know how good Patrick Troughton is, so this scene’s a treat.

With the Doctor
vindicated and the excitement ebbing, Clent is struck with a sudden stress
headache.Miss Garrett offers an
interesting suggestion.

Me:‘The Vibrochair’?

Evidently, paracetamol
has been outlawed in this fearful frigid future.

Elsewhere, the origins
of ‘Arden Man’
are being speculated upon.Viking
maybe?Hard to tell really – probably
prehistoric, and lawks!He’s a whopper!

Walters:Proper ‘ice warrior’, isn’t he, Sir?

Me:And we have a name.

As the wind rises, the
two bearded gentlemen we saw earlier are watching this glacial excavation with
interest.

Him:Cool!His beard wiggled!

Me:It’s very
windy.

There’s a sudden
avalanche and Davis
is swept away to the strains of Excalibur.The two scavengers are also buffeted, with the exceptionally-bearded one
(who’ll turn out to be the descendent of a Tullock landlord and probably named
after a Sontaran) thinking his arm’s broken.

Me:The tension’s building.

Back in the dome,
Clent asks the Doctor to explain how he knows so much about computers and
nothing about the state of the planet.

The Doctor:Well – er – as a matter of fact we’ve – been
in retreat – in - in Tibet.

Clent suggests the
Doctor undergoes a science test.The
Doctor agrees and Clent springs an unexpected general knowledge question that
goes some way to filling in the back-story (it’s another ice age – I’m not
going to say which one in case there
are any Radio Times readers lurking nearby).

The Doctor gets it
right.Clent explains that the problems
stemmed from the environmental disaster caused after world famine was conquered.Humanity has developed an Ioniser that melts
the ice but it’s not as reliable as you’d hope.

Me:Reminds me a bit of The Moonbase.And The Enemy of the World.

The glacier's in check
for the moment, but one small error and everywhere’ll look like the freezer
compartment of my fridge.Clent had been
relying on the scientist Penley who was mentioned earlier, but for whatever
reason he’s not around right now.Clent
offers the Doctor the position of Scientific Advisor, and in a brave and
unexpected move the rest of the series is set in the dome, with Jamie flirting
relentlessly with everything in a skirt.

The Doctor is
introduced to his new mentor, Miss Garrett.She’s a computer specialist.

Miss Garrett: Here, we are completely computerised.

The Doctor:Well, never mind.

Me:Ha!

The block of ice
containing ‘Arden
Man’ is wheeled in.The Doctor has an
excited look at it, but doesn’t mention Minnesota
or John W. Campbell.Arden expresses a certain amount of understandable
professional jealousy when the Doctor points out that the helmet’s all wrong.

Arden:Well, I say it’s an undiscovered civilisation. Think of the
implications!

Me:It’s like a cross between The Thing from another World and the Fortean
Times letters page.

Clent blusters away
with Arden to have
a meeting.As the ice starts melting, the
Doctor spots something that really shouldn’t be found in anything as old as
this and looks rather flustered.Leaving
Jamie to flirt with Victoria,
the Doctor dashes off after Clent.

Jamie hops into the
vibrochair and reveals he’s quite taken with the dome’s dress-code.

Jamie:You – ah – don’t see yourself dressed like
that then?

Me:Jamie!

Victoria:Jamie!

Him: Why is Jamie imagining Victoria dressed as an Ice Warrior?

Me:Well, it’s cold.

As the puddle beneath
the gurney deepens, ‘Arden
Man’ suddenly flexes his twitchy pincers and starts to gasp for air.

The credits slide.

TWO

As the DVD isn’t out
at the time of typing, it’s johnnyfanboy to the rescue once again.

‘Arden Man’ is still defrosting.The warm air of the dome’s interior has brought
about a change of costume and a haircut.

Rather grumpy after
oversleeping and probably missing the train, ‘Arden Man’…Umm…Well, not sure really.Victoria
fails to release a sonic blast and other than that it sounds like someone drops
a fork they’ve just used to puncture an inflatable mattress.Yes, I‘m sure that’s what happens.

Anyway, back at the
Control Polo, things’re hotting up.Pardon
the pun.

Me:It’s a bit of a cautionary tale against
technology.And the perils of defrosting
seven-foot tall, reptilian Martian invaders.

The Doctor bursts in
on his appraisal with some alarming news for Clent and Arden.

The Doctor:It’s the helmet.It’s – it’s not what we thought it was.

Him:“It’s an axe-head!”6

The Doctor:It’s a highly sophisticated space helmet!

Me:Copyright Terry Nation 1965.

Although Clent feels
the Doctor is yomping to conclusions, our hero panics on.He’s convinced that there must be a spaceship
buried deep in the giant mint currently advancing over the Earth.And Scotland.

Clent, with some help
from Miss Garrett, deduces that whatever powered this ancient futuristic craft
is probably based on atomic energy. Consequently, using the Ioniser to defrost
it might cause all sorts of apocalyptic problems.Clent’s all for asking the computer what to
do, but Arden
points out they might be low on yer actual facts.

Clent:Well, furnish me with facts then!7

Jamie comes barging
in.‘Arden
Man’ has taken Victoria
on a mystery date somewhere (so that’s what
was going on), and our dashing young Scot is somewhat concerned.

Back in the room Victoria isn’t in, the
Doctor points out that the table itself has been burned.It’s hard to tell from the telesnaps but with
the amount of ice that isn’t there anymore, I hope everyone’s wearing waders.

Me:Science!

Clent issues an alarm
and decides he’ll ask the computer what to do next.

Me:“++HELLO++MY NAME’S MAX++”8

Victoria and ‘Arden Man’ have found a
romantic cupboard elsewhere in the dome.The romance theme from The Legend of Zelda plays gently from the giant’s internal speakers.The two are getting to know each other.

Victoria:Wh-where are you from?

‘Arden Man’:ssssss frrrom the rrrrred planet ssssss

Victoria:M-Mars?

‘Arden Man’ doesn’t answer, perhaps he’s
ashamed of his roots?Anyway,
‘Arden Man’ totally blows his chances with the
shivering Victoria
at this point by threatening her with a teeny torch, little realising she’s just
toying with him – one sonic blast from her could totally destroy the stunted Alien rip-off along with the massive tank it’s walking
around in.

I should at this stage
say that whilst I personally didn’t mind Cold War as such, it would have been immeasurably improved by having a) a different/new monster and b)a different/new writer. Save the fanboy reimagining for Big Finish,if
you don’t mind.4

Me:Victoria’s
not having much success with reasoning.

‘Arden Man’ decides to dig out the rest of his
chilly chums and we leave the cupboard for a moment and return to the Control Polo.

Max, the computer, has
come up with a bit of a plan along with a casualty forecast.Neither are great.Jamie picks up on a key term.

Max decides that
Arden, having tried to name this new companion-abducting discovery for no
reason other than profit and recognition, should be the one to go and start
negotiations, with Jamie acting as back-up muscle.

Me:Bit of the ‘I am the Victorian’ motif there.

Elsewhere, the two
bearded gentlemen are - Oh, alright – the one with the knackered arm is called
Storr and the other one’s the much-mentioned Penley and played by National
Treasure™ Peter Sallis – who everyone knows as either Don Enrique, from
perennial pensioner sit-com The Curse of the Werewolf, or his heart-warming turn as Man in Coat in the BAFTA-bait classic, Saturday
Night and Sunday Morning - so let’s just
get that obligatory observation out of the way.

Right, in a greenhouse
elsewhere, Penley’s attending to Storr’s rapidly-spreading infection whilst the
two discuss how lovely the garden’s looking.

Me:There should be a bear in this.Filmed specially.

There’s a bit of a
problem, however.Easily fixed.

Penley:I’m going for drugs.And if I don’t get them, you’re as good as
dead.

Victoria and ‘Arden Man’ are still in
the cupboard.It’s quite hard to work
out what’s going on as the mattress is still deflating.‘Arden
Man’ wants to visit the ‘power unit’, whatever/wherever that may be, and has decided he’ll kill anyone
who gets in his way.

Little does this tiny
wannabe-Xenomorph-in-a-tanksuit realise that young Victoria is herself equipped with
devastating sonic capabilities.I guess
she’s biding her time and all the whimpering’s an act.

Jamie and Arden (who’s
popped on a very fetching red top in the interim) seem to be trying to play
golf with a novelty club.Clent Skypes
them furiously.

Clent:That was not
the purpose of your mission.Please
report correctly.

Arden reports that they can’t get a reading from
the ice.As you’ll no doubt have
noticed, both of Us are absorbed in the story.That’s because it’s excellent.Unfortunately, this means that I have do the irreverent stuff largely on
my own.Oh well.

Clent aborts the
mission, ordering the two to return.

Penley has made his
way into the dome. Hearing a steady deflating, he hides in a locker, narrowly
avoiding ‘Arden
Man’ and Victoria, but watching as they wander past on their way to this power
unit thing.

The Doctor and Clent
are talking, and some lovely character beats go by.Clent’s totally reliant on the impartiality
of machines, but acknowledges that Penley would be useful to have around.

Me:It’s been confusing me for a bit, but I’ve
worked it out.Peter Barkworth sounds a
lot like Patrick McGoohan.Well, in this
anyway.He’s a class actor.

Clent falls to the
floor and Victoria
emits a brief sonic blast – unfortunately her aim’s off and Varga stands
unaffected.

Varga:s s s s ss ss ss sss

Me:I think Clent’ll need more than pumping.

Penley watches from
inside his locker – clambering out when the alliterative couple have
vanished.The Doctor arrives and catches
Penley standing over the prone Clent.

Penley:I… I was going to give him this.

The Doctor sniffs the
small glass bottle that Penley hands him and starts coughing before using it to
wake Clent – who’s just been stunned.Penley explains the situation to the Doctor, including the whole business with
Varga and Storr, and then heads off with the drugs he’s acquired.The Doctor stops Penley and tells him how
much he’s needed.Penley pauses and
considers - but still leaves to help Storr.

Me:Lovely scene.

Him:Do you reckon they’ve found the rest of The Ice Warriors and it’s just playing
in the BBC Canteen?

Me:Nope.But I’d be surprised if the DVD isn’t released at a coincidentally
optimum time.Say, next year…4

The Him looks baffled.

Him:Oooo-kay.

Miss Garrett and Jamie
arrive just as Clent recovers.Varga’s
managed to get out of the base, armed with the power pack thing.The Doctor gets rather worried by this as
it’ll allow Varga to wake others of his kind.Arden’s
sensible enough not to claim credit for the way things have turned out.

Me:The script’s ace.The acting’s ace.The music helps.I’m impressed.We’re really
on a run of classics here and this story’s excellent.

Penley treats the
unconscious Storr, name-drops a Christopher Eccleston story and announces to
his reflection that he’s going to do some hunting of his own.His first name’s Elric by the way.No, not that one.

In the Ice Mountains,
Varga’s bored of his romantic break and prepares to awaken the rest of his gang
for some proper laddish larks.Puddles
of terror begin to form…

Credits Ho!

Me:That went by quick.

Him:It did.

THREE

We recap.Postcards of the Ice Mountains…

Me:I don’t know what to draw for this one.

Him:One of the guns?Keep with the circle theme.

Me:Could do.

Varga’s lads are still
defrosting.According to the telesnaps,
Penley’s watching all this take place.

Back in the dome,
Jamie and the Doctor share some brief words while Arden tries to get his shiny red pullover
on.The Doctor tells Jamie to keep his
wits about him.

Me:Nice banter.

Clent and Arden
exchange a final back and forth, allowing Arden the chance to set up the
reasons for a potential noble sacrifice later on, which would be a shame, as I
don’t think the Foundation gives the Nobel posthumously.If they still give it out at all in this
nightmare future.

Jamie and Arden head
off and Clent assigns Miss Garrett to the Doctor.If this was remade today Clent would probably
be following Health and Safety regulations.

Storr’s made a
marvellous recovery.Penley tells him
about the various adventures he’s been having.They’re very at ease with one another.

Me:I wonder if these two are a couple.

Him:I think it was illegal back then.

Me:Doesn’t mean that they aren’t a couple.

Storr hears someone
moving outside.Penley hides him just as
Miss Garrett makes an appearance.It’s
all swirly.Miss Garrett tries to
persuade Penley to come and help with the Ioniser, but he stands his
ground.In fairness, the message is a
bit hard to miss, even without comedy
parp-parp music underlining each dramatic beat and drowning any subtlety in a
bucket.

Him:These episodes are going by really quickly.

Me:Good, aren’t they?

Having exhausted
negotiation and diplomacy, Miss Garrett pulls a tranquillising torch on Penley.

Penley:You must
be desperate.

Storr appears from
nowhere, grabs the torch and everyone starts being polite to each other
again.Penley still refuses to help, but
offers a suggestion in case things go south(er).

Penley: Look up my notes on the Omega Factor…

Miss Garrett leaves.During the intervening episode gap everyone
seems to have decided that ‘Ice Warrior’ is the correct name for the tall green
lumbering machines, but then there’s a fine divide between nominative
determinism, synchronicity, morphic resonance, steam-engine time and the path
of least resistance.4

Me:Storr’s hamming it up a bit.It’s hovering close to Python but it still just about works.It’d be fine usually but this is so well-cast
otherwise that he stands out-

Him:“Beardy Weirdy!”

Back with Victoria and
Varga and the air’s thick with testosterone.

Him:“sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ss ss ss”

Varga directs the
first of the unthawed to head off and set some traps.Victoria’s
having a terrible time – she’s gone from love interest to peril monkey in
barely an episode.Penley, true to form,
appears to be watching.

Back in the dome and
the Doctor’s probably going through some sort of montage involving
calculations, crumpled paper and chewed pencils.

Me:Dudley’s
gone a bit Tubular Bells II dance mix
there.

Miss Garrett comes
rushing in with the cheat sheet Penley hinted at earlier.

The Doctor:‘Omega’.Well, what does he mean?

Me:With a bit of retconning I guess you could
argue-

Him:“A HERE OH?”

Me:Yes.That.

Obviously you couldn’t
– unless you were preparing a pitch to Big Finish or - wait, pretend I didn’t say that.Hmmmm…4

Dudley does something
I’d never let Murray
(“Itsa me!”) Gold get away with as the Doctor gets very excited about the ‘Omega Factor’.

Clent:That’s fantastic!

The Doctor:Well, when you’ve been at it as long as I have…

Me:Nice.

When the topic of peer
review is raised, the Doctor leaves in a huff.

Elsewhere, Arden Skypes the dome to
inform them that the Ice Warriors have carved a new cave using just their
tusks.And possibly futuristic carving
tools.

Me:Speleogenesis, that’s what that is.

Arden’s discovered a series of large circles that
seem to make up a door.

Me:It’d be nice if the new series would try some
more experimental music from time to time.

Him:It does.

Me:Yeah, but not for a whole bar.

Him:“This is BBC 1.”

Me:That’s no excuse.In fairness, it has been a bit less constant-Tom-and-Jerry since Matt Smith arrived.4

Him:‘The Sun’s Gone Wibbly.’

Me:Damn straight.

The Ice Warriors
spring their sneaky Mirrorlon trap and Jamie and Arden fall to the snow.Victoria’s
truly unhappy at the way this adventure is turning out.

The Ice Warriors head
back into their hiding place to wait for the next batch of inquisitive
scientists – in the interim, there’s fiddling with a propulsion unit to be
done.

Back in the dome, the
Doctor’s getting worried that Jamie hasn’t been in contact.They check, but the Skype’s just showing
snow.Miss Garrett announces that the Ioniser’ll
work after all – but they need Arden’s
report to know if it’s safe to go ahead.

In a sudden and
surprising change of tactics, Varga decides not to boil Victoria’s brain but instead use her
distress bleat to draw their enemies in.

Still on her teary Skype, Victoria
is attempting to describe the engines when the connection becomes more
sporadic.The glacier is moving…

Varga decides enough’s
enough and sends a couple of the lads out to bring Victoria back in to answer some
questions.Namely, why is Clent so
interested in their engines?During
Varga’s speech the camera zooms right up close…

Me:Wow.

Victoria’s in trouble.Having familiarised herself with the
Companion’s Manual, she gathers up everything she needs to, and legs it toward
the base with an Ice Flunky lumbering after her.

Him: “i can ssssee you with my giant head sss”

Victoria ducks into an ice passage, there’s a sudden
snowfall that lands on her head-

Him:Ouch.

- and the pursuit’s
back underway.

In the dome, the
Doctor’s dialling up some chemicals.

Me:Oh.It’s a phone.

Having dialled up a
quick drink, the Doctor runs through the problems facing them and orders
something a little stronger for later.

Me:Here comes the science.

The Doctor plans to
leave for the spaceship, armed only with ammonium sulphide.Clent eventually agrees to the Doctor’s plan,
but under protest.

Victoria has been cornered by the Ice Flunky and is
forced to emit a sonic blast – it brings the roof down.

Him:“Is there/Ice on Mars?”

In the greenhouse,
Jamie’s got a headache.Penley treats
him with a damp cloth and some exposition.

Varga fills in some
time with his number two.Basically they’re
stuck until someone turns up with some fuel or something.It’s approaching a bit of a zugzwang.Varga’s so disheartened that he retreats into
his shell for a bit.

Victoria’s trapped under the icefall.The Ice Flunky’s still holding her wrist, so she’s
not going anywhere for now.

Storr’s experienced a
sudden sharp drop in his IQ and wanders off to ask the Ice Warriors for
help.It’s a very strange thing to
do.Luckily, he hears Victoria’s gentle distress honks echoing up
the chilly arteries, and clumps off in the general direction of the noise to
see if he can help.

The Doctor and Penley stumble
across each other and strike up a brief alliance.Penley takes the Doctor to see Jamie at the
same time as Storr finds and frees Victoria.

Me:Really quick cuts there.Quite disorientating.

There’s another
icefall – Storr pulls Victoria
off into the tunnels.

The Ice Warriors are
passing the time before besieging the base with bafflegab.

Storr’s misguided
notions lead him straight to the ship.Within
moments, Victoria’s
recaptured and Storr’s undergone a fatal dose of rudeness and Mirrorlon.

Him:“nasssty sss”

Me:He was
a bit misguided.

The Doctor and Jamie
fill each other in.Jamie’s going to
walk again (although, from the Doctor’s expression when he turns away, it isn’t convincing that he believes this).Suddenly, the glacier makes its presence known by
breaking bits off the greenhouse.

Greenhouse:CRSHSSHMSHtinkle tink

Me:I’m fairly sure that’s the same sound effect
of breaking glass that makes a cameo when the Martian capsule flattens Parson
Nathanial’s house in Jeff Wayne’s Musical
Version of H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds.

Him:These are going by really fast.

Me:Good, isn’t it?

Him:Yeah.

The Doctor reaches the
Ice Warriors’ main door, mostly unscathed.He knocks and the door opens.The
Doctor strides into the reception airlock and stares confidently down the Ice
Warriors’ security vidcom, refusing to show them any identification.It’s a bold move for a man who could easily
be mistaken for an encyclopaedia salesman.

Varga mistakes the
Doctor for an encyclopaedia salesman and starts counting up to the moment when
he’ll remove all the atmospheric pressure and cause a poor cleaner an awful lot
of overtime.

Him:What an interesting ending.It didn’t go all black and we’re just waiting
for Patrick Troughton to explode.

Varga:ss ss ss

Credits!

FIVE

We recap with the now
familiar slideshow and then the countup continues…

Me:Bit different there.

The Doctor:I don’t think much of your hospitality.

Varga:ss ss ss

The Doctor identifies
himself as being as scientist.Varga
flicks the buzzer and the Doctor enters the base and sees what he’s up against.

The Doctor:Oh my word.

Him:Ha!

The glacier does a
little rumble and shuffle and Varga calls for Victoria.He’ll want to keep an eye on the sniggering; it’s traipsing dangerously
close to hubris.The Doctor and Victoria
are reunited.

Meanwhile, Jamie’s
being dragged through the snow-filled woods by Penley.A wolf howls, which isn’t the sort of thing
that you really want to hear.They stop
for a quick break to give Jamie a chance to misquote Dean Lennox
Kelly.Unfortunately, there’s an
unexpected cameo at this point.

Him:It’s a bear!

Me:Filmed specially.

The Doctor has
explained the situation to Varga.It’s
all a bit of a mess really, with both sides being in a tricky
situation.The Doctor’s managed to leave
his Skype on throughout this – which is trusting to fate even more than Clent,
if you ask me – and the whole conversation has been relayed back to the
base.In order to maintain some mystery,
I’m not going to tell you what Max recommends.

MAX:++SPOILERS++

Me:That’s Roy Skelton there.You almost met him.

The Him says nothing.

Jamie and Penley confront
the bear, armed only with a tiny tranquilliser.It’s an excellent moment.

Me:That was pretty tense.

Back in the dome,
trouble’s brewing and the acting’s hotting up.It’s superb.

Jamie and Penley are okay,
bar a mild clawing.They hurry on,
before the bear wakes up and finishes off mauling them into pink strips.

Back in the Ice Warriors’
ship, the Doctor has been shown the reactor.It’s made of Ion and guarded by a door that doesn’t seem to obey Varga’s
orders.Interestingly, it turns out that
an i(ce)Pod appears to be a standard piece of kit for these proud Martian
warriors.Yeah, yeah – stick with it,
they’re definitely from Mars
now.Maybe they had amnesia from the
long nap.The Doctor offers to help, but
Varga’s still after fuel.They threaten Victoria and the Doctor
admits that Varga will almost certainly find what he’s after at the base.But Clent won’t be easy to convince when it
comes to handing it over.Varga
disagrees.

Varga:ss ss ss he will lissten to our ssonic cannonssss
sss

The Warriors prepare
to besiege the base.And it’s about
time.

Clent has been
reunited with Penley and Jamie.We’re
watching it again.

Me:It’s Wallace.

Him:And Gromit.

Me:Yeah.

Pause.

Him:Is it?

Me:Yeah, it’s Peter Sallis.Same actor.

Him:Cool.What are the odds against that?

Me:There aren’t any: it’s a certainty.It does seem strange that no-one’s ever
noticed that before.I’d better update
all the usual sites with the info…4

Clent finally starts
to snap under the horrendous pressure.After a heated argument, Penley and Jamie are stunned and dragged
away.The tension’s rising appreciably.

Me:That reminds me.

The Ice Flunkies have
reached the base.

Varga: sss take
tarrrget rrreadingsssss

Varga begins to line-up
the sights to blast chunks out of the base.In order to cause a (noisy and very effective) distraction, the Doctor
makes Victoria
emit confusion-inducing sonic blasts.She’s had a hell of a day, so it’s not as difficult as you’d think.

The Doctor produces
their tiny phial of escape attempt.

The Doctor:Ammonium sulphide.

Victoria: ‘Ammonium sulphide’?But it’s only a stink bomb!

The Doctor:Ah yes, the benefits of a classical education…

Me:Wonderful.

It’s hard to tell what
the Doctor actually says there, as he’s drowned out by Victoria's sonic blasts.I’m looking forward to being able to select a
subtitle option for this section, to see what the dialogue really is.

The Doctor eventually
gets the lid off and struggles desperately to hold Zondal’s deadly pincers away
from the firing switch.It’s a tense
moment, made even more thrilling by the addition of-

Varga puts through a
personal call to Clent, telling him to surrender.Clent – to his massive credit – points out
that at the moment their hands are rather full, but he’ll see if he can make an
appointment for Varga to come in for a chat.Gosh, with all this mutually assured destruction hanging over both sides
I wonder if it could be argued that this story’s alluding to what Orwell
referred to as the ‘Cold War’?Someone
should do a remix.4

Varga fades back into
a flurry of static.The Control Polo resonates with bellowing.Penley is
mentioned, the computer is disrespected (to the max, no less) and Walters ends
up on the floor.

The Doctor and
Victoria are no further forward, so we’ll leave them there and return to the
peace talks – the delegates from Mars have just arrived, y’see.

Clent attempts to get
things moving, but his position is made awkward when Walters attempts some
aggressive negotiations of his own.Varga counters with the Mirrorlon defence and everything gets set back a
few cliff-hangers.

Varga:sso much for yourrr worrrdsss

Varga requires
mercury.I’m saying nothing (mostly
because I’m watching it) but I doubt the Him’ll let this elemental development
go by without a comment.

Clent:This reactor does not use mercury.

Him:Ah.But we all know what does use
mercury, eh, kids?

As stand-offs go, this
is mighty fine.Varga doesn’t believe
Clent and prepares to let his Ice Flunkies mash the reactor.After all, even if Clent’s telling the truth
then the Martians can just have a kip until the spring.

The Doctor has been
eavesdropping and tinkering.He’s come
up with a plan to turn Varga’s gun against the Warriors.

Clent tries to reason
with the impassive Cold Warrior.It’s just
not happening.

Clent:Listen, Varga.The power source is locked in directly with
the Ioniser.If we cut the power before
it is safe, the feedback effect could blast this building into a state of ion
flux.

There’s a hissy pause
as Varga takes this new information on board.

Me: “you jusst made that up”

Varga:rrrun it down to ssafety level ss but no
trrricks ss do it now ss

Miss Garrett and Clent
exchange the briefest of looks and she begins to adjust something.

Carelessly, Varga lets
slip that his ship would explode if the heat was turned upon it.

Clent:Would it?

Us:Ha!

There’s an interesting
moment where the debate of value versus worth (or something) gets an
airing.There’s no time to explore that
after Varga’s schoolboy error – we’re galloping to the end now.

The Doctor and Victoria
meanwhile are discussing vibrations amongst other things.The Doctor believes that the Ice Warriors are
composed of a ‘far greater fluid content than human beings’ and that means-

Me:“They’re like water balloons.And what happens to water balloons when you
drop them on a hot spike?”

Not really, that would
be hideous.He’s basically going to
microwave them, which is, to be fair, just as horrible.

Elsewhere, Jamie
awakes but can’t find anyone to flirt with.

Penley has recovered
and made his way to the Control Polo.Working out what’s going on, he sneakily turns the thermostat to
somewhere between Unexpected British Heatwave and Flashback Commencing.

Him:We’ve been watching this for a long
time.Doesn’t feel like that.

Me:Yup.

The Doctor turns on
the Bafflegab which doesn’t discriminate between species.

Him:“Ah, it killed everyone.Oh well, next adventure.”

The Ice Warriors
recover quickly and Varga’s not happy, to say the least.He sets off towards his ship, followed by his
woozy Ice Flunkies.It’s time to
administer the Doctor’s, long-overdue, damn good thrashing.

The Doctor sets off
some fireworks in the ship’s control panels, before pulling Victoria in the general direction of
somewhere that isn’t here.

Luckily, the two
groups miss each other during their respective jogs between locations.Varga finds his massive gun’s not working - he’ll
punish Zendal later - and the Doctor discovers that he’s failed to kill all
humans.Which is lucky.

The Doctor uses
Chekhov’s Stink Bomb to revive Penley just in time to fix Max’s eleventh hour
(not that one) problem with
indecision.It’s a hell of a scene.

Clent asks Max the
following poser:

Clent:Problem: Alien spacecraft is powered by an
ion reactor.Dare we use the
Ioniser?What are the alternatives?Answer.

Max crashes.Penley takes manual control of the Ioniser.

Penley:At full strength the Ioniser will melt rock.

Him:“But it will
roll.”

I’m guessing the Him
misheard Penley’s announcement but I might be wrong.

The Ice Warriors
prepare their final doomed escape attempt.

Clent’s very upset
about the turn the day’s taken.

The Ice Warriors find
themselves lost in a fog.They fall into
a dream sequence.

Me:That’s a great shot.

Him:Why not make that your drawing?

Me:Hmmm…

Silence on the
base.There’s a slow pan around the
relieved humans.

Penley extends an
olive branch of sorts to Clent and gets this in return:

Clent:Penley.You are the most insufferably, irritating and infuriating person I’ve
ever been privileged to work with.

Penley:Thank you.

Clent:Can’t write a report though, can you?

Me:That’s brilliant.

It’s only then they
notice that our chums have gone.With a
wheezing, groaning sound the (now upright) TARDIS dematerializes, leaving only
credits and a gallery of lobby cards from The Thing from another World.

1. I’ve got a horrible suspicion that I might
have sold it during my Tom-Baker’s-the-Best-Thing-Ever period, otherwise known
as my twenties. Idiot.

2. See 1.

3. If this is the case – and there are a great
many seams yet inviolate, so it might be – then don’t see 1. Or2. These footnotes are
becoming a bit complicated…4

4. You think?

5. One of the weirder things I remember about
the Targets is that the ones I didn’t have always looked and felt wrong. If I borrowed one I didn’t own from someone
else it created an odd gap in my tiny consumer urges after I’d read it, almost
like it didn’t count anymore. I was an
odd boy.4

6. On our recent trip to the Colony we found a friendly Museum which had a small section devoted to local archaeological finds, most of
which appeared to be slightly-different-sized rocks all labelled
‘axe-head’. If this was the case then I
posit that the beach we were camped next to is the most important scientific and
historical resource in the whole of Western civilisation and should be
instantly acknowledged as such.

7. I chickened out of quoting The Day Today and howling “Fact me ‘til
I fart!” you’ll have noticed. Obviously,
this is because farts have no place in Doctor
Who.4

9. We did listen to the one on the CD, but just listened to it and didn’t say
anything. We tried again and I forgot to
make notes. It didn’t seem worth making
a third attempt,4but, for
completeness’ sake, here’re the notes that I would’ve made had I tried for the
hat-trick.